Heaven is a Place on Earth
by OrangeColorSky
Summary: After Newt dies in the 'Last City', he wakes up in a very strange place where everything seems peaceful. But the locals are keeping secrets and he's not sure where to start or how to fit in. Enter Stiles Stilinski, the boy who is an exact carbon copy of his lost best friend Tommy. Except he isn't at all like Tommy, but at the same time he is.
1. Golden Leaves and Flower Skirts

Newt was woken softly by the rising clarity sun. The smell of the air was clear. Birds chirped whilst leaves rustled. One would almost think that he was back in the maze, before everything went to shit. But he told himself that he was still in the blazes in WCKD. Being tugged along by his best friend. Slowly dying from the Flare.

It wasn't until he neglectfully opened his eyes to find that he was most definitely not in either of those places. _Where the bloody hell am I?_ Looking around, he found no walls, nothing that bound him to this place.

The sun seeped through the lush canopy he was under, and the creek rushing near his feet flickered with life. No, he was not where he was.

Sitting up, Newt noticed that the pain in his leg was but a ghost of what used to be. The ugly wound that was spiraling out of control on his arm was replaced by his usual smooth, tanned skin. He was back in the cloths he wore through the scorch. Shirt patchy, shoes warn. _Am I… am I dead?_

He brought himself standing. Feeling the dirt shift under his feet, he strolled a little ways into the wood.

A few feet in front of him stood a deer. How beautify it bowed its neck from drinking to stare at him. Though alert, the animal seemed to show little fear as it stared directly at Newt. It was the most breathtaking thing he could ever remember witnessing. There was a sudden snap of a twig before the deer pranced off. There was another snap, and then another. Then, faintly, voices could be heard.

Newt quickly, by instinct, ran and ducked down behind the nearest fallen tree. Peaking through the warn holes of it's trunk, he waited. Two people casually trailed along an unbeaten path towards the creek.

Neither looked affected by the flare. Their cloths were whole and looked as if they were recently made. One of the people, a girl, happily splashed into the shallow water. Splashing as she went, her dark brown hair and flowery skirt bounced in tandem with her movements. The other person, a boy, walked alongside the water, holding her light skinned hand with his darker colored one. Neither of them seemed to be in any sort of turmoil. Like the world wasn't _Shucking_ ending.

"Kira! Be careful!" The boy warned after the girl's boot gently slipped under her, causing the girl, "Kira", to fall into the boy's arms.

"Oh Scott, you worry too much. What's the worst that could happen?!" Kira cheerfully giggled in "Scott's" arms before she steadied herself and continued to skip a few feet ahead.

Scott shook his head in amusement. "What's got you so happy anyway?"

Kira twirled around, making sure that her skirt made a full circle around her legs. "What's not to be happy about? The sun is out, the air is clean… no one's died in a while. You should be just as happy! You got into AP Bio!" She ran back up to Scott and gently kissed him on the nose before pecking him on the lips. "Be happy with me!"

"I'm just worried…"

Kira stopped him mid-sentence by gently clapping her hand over his mouth. "Shh…. You're going to jinx us, and if you start after Stiles gave us that huge speech, something is going to happen. And I will be blaming you!"

"Fine, fine… so when are you going to tell your parents you joined the lacrosse team?" A sparkle shined in her eyes as she dragged him off beyond earshot.

 _…. Who? How? What just happened?_ Newt normally was not at a loss for words. But this? This was beyond his thought capability. They were so carefree and seemed like a whole other type of human.

Shaking his head, Newt arose back to his feet. Knowing that he needed to figure out what was going on. He needed to get back to Thomas. Back to Minho and the others.

" _Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?  
Ooh, heaven is a place on earth.  
They say in heaven, love comes first.  
We'll make heaven a place on earth"_


	2. Pavement and Children

Newt wondered out onto an old country road. The pavement was whole, no erosions in sight. Walking was easy going, well the act. He had no idea where he was going. One or two vehicles passed by, one of the drivers gave him a once over. He had no idea if that was a good or a bad thing. Brushing that off he came to the edge of town.

The sign read "Welcome to Beacon Hills" in fancy, too fancy, lettering. It was red, black and white with a cyclone edging off. Newt had no idea what any of that meant, just that he may run into more people and possibly his people.

He walked along the sidewalk and watched the commotion around him. There were people crossing the street in a rush. Cars honking, lights turning… Newt even caught glimpses of children smiling with there parents. And not once did he see anyone going out of their minds.

Down the street was a large blue and white building. Newt had enough sense to know what a police station was. He wasn't that dumb. But it was odd because the police were no longer a 'thing'. At least not since people started dying left and right. But maybe, just maybe they could help. Or at least point him to the right direction.

A small bell chimed above the door as Newt let himself in to the station. Telephones were going off, everyone was scattering about. He came up to the small desk and rang the little silver bell that sat off to the side. He didn't have to wait long before a shorter woman with dark hair rushed up to greet him.

"Yes? May I help you?" She asked with a bit of an exasperated tone.

"I was wondering if someone could help me?" He asked, eyes wondering to the chaos.

Before the woman could answer a man walked through one of the side doors. He, like the others, seemed to be in a rush. "Ramono! I need you to go check out the preserve. Stilinski called, kids found another body!"

The woman, "Ramono", paled. Shaking her head, she turned back to Newt. "I so sorry kid. Do you mind waiting for someone else for a bit? The towns gone bonkers." Not waiting for her to respond she hurried out the back door.

 _Body?_ And it wasn't just one, the man clearly stated that it was _another_. Meaning that this wasn't the first. Newt was making mental note of everything going on. _Maybe this place isn't as perfect as I thought._ Taking a seat on one of the benches, he watched the world of the station go by. Not once did anyone seem to notice he was there. It's not like he had anywhere to be anyway. A couple hours passed before it seemed like things started to quiet down. People were leaving for the day and others were sitting at their desks.

"Can I help you?" The same man from before came up to him. His brows were furrowed with a concern ridden face. "You've been her a while."

Newt didn't even know where to start. He didn't know where he was, and he most definitely was not supposed to be here. "I…" He started. _Bloody shank! You know how to talk._ "I'm not sure where to start. I'm a little lost."

"Come on kid. Back with me to my office, you can tell me the whole thing there." The man helped him up to his feet and leaded him back to one of the side offices. There was a brass plate on the door that read 'Deputy Parrish'. "Parrish" Newt supposed, lead him to a very large chair in front of the desk. "Sit."

"Now, start at the beginning. There has been a lot going on lately. You said you were lost?" The man asked turning to his computer and typed something down.

"Uh, yeah. I'm not supposed to be here." Newt started, he was trying to figure out the best way explain himself.

"That meaning?"

"I don't know where I am. I woke up in the woods this morning, and I don't know how I got there."

Parrish was confused. He had never seen this kid before and waking up in the woods randomly seemed to be a werewolf thing. At least from what Scott and Stiles filled him in on. Which honesty, wasn't very much.

"Who are you're parents?" Maybe this kid had some sort of mental problem, because he wasn't getting any signs of him being a wolf.

"I… don't have any." Newt dead panned. Staring the deputy down. He had a feeling that talking to this man wouldn't be able to help him.

"You mean you're a run away?" It wasn't unusual, especially around here, to find a kid who left home for one reason or another.

"No, I mean their gone. I don't know who they were… I'm pretty sure they're dead."

Parrish was pretty sure now that this kid probably ran away from one of the neighboring town's foster care homes. But what he didn't understand was what he was doing in the police station, of all places. The kid must have known that, legally, he would have to be returned.

"What's your name kid? I'll get you back to where you belong." Parrish's fingers ghosted over the keyboard.

"Newt"

"Got a last name Newt?" The deputy was positive that the name 'Newt' was a nick name, and that would not help in the least.

"Don't got one" Newt was getting a tad annoyed by this point.

"Look kid, I'm not going to be able to get any information unless you tell me your name. Your real name." He was now going over to the 'lost' section of the system.

"Look, thanks… but I don't think you'll be able to help me." Newt stood up and stared heading towards the door.

"Kid, you're not going anywhere! Sit back down!" Parrish began to hurry after him, but he was interjected by his scanner going off.

" _Parrish! It's John, I need you down here right away!"_

Newt took the opportunity to rush out of the station. Trying not to draw any attention to himself, he jogged back towards where he came with the intentions on finding a place to hide.

 _Darn it you bloody idiot! Now you have the police after you!_ Newt yelled at himself.

In front of him he saw a large field with people on it. They were dressed in some sort of equipment that Newt didn't recognize. But that wasn't what had his attention. There was a patch of woods across, behind a bunch of bleachers. Newt broke out into a run. Hopping that the other people there wouldn't pay him any mind.

There was a loud whistle, followed by angry shouting. "Hey! You! Get off the field! We're trying to have practice here!" on the other hand, a few of the others were encouraging him. "Run, Forest, Run!" Whistled a boy. "What'cha running from? The big bad wolf?" Hollered another.

Newt didn't stop to respond, nor did he understand entirely what they were saying. He just kept his mind on the goal in front of him. It wasn't until he was knocked down to the ground at full force by something, or someone, that he stopped.

"Hey, you ok?" A voice asked. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar. A voice that brought him comfort. A voice that he would follow anywhere.

"Tommy?" Newt was bewildered. Thomas didn't look like himself, well not exactly. He was still the same guy, but void from his face were the dark bags and scars from months of stress and turmoil. He wasn't covered in dirt like the last time he saw him either. His skin was different too, instead of a dark tan from the sun, his skin was pale, almost too pale. And instead of his hair hanging loosely around his face, it was sticking slightly up and out of his face.

"Who's Tommy?" Thomas asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Stilinski!" Demanded the man with the whistle. "Get your pale ass over here. You're already late!"

Thomas helped Newt up to his feet before running onto the field to join the others. But not before giving Newt a confused once over.

 _Bloody Tommy doesn't know who I am!_

" _When the night falls down.  
I wait for you and you come around.  
And the world's alive with the sound  
Of kids on the street outside"_


	3. Maroon Jerseys and Confused Players

Newt decided to wait around until whatever was going on is over. He had to talk to Thomas, he was lost without him. Sadly, that was a truth that he more recently came to realize. Even more recent was the confusion of what his feelings for Thomas were exactly. He felt more for him that he had ever felt for anyone.

"Hey? You new?" A voice asked, bring Newt away from his devolving thoughts.

He had seated himself beneath the bleachers, in the hopes that no one would be able to see him. But, as it seems, he was wrong.

"What?" His accent came out thicker than anticipated as he faced the person. It was a girl, and not just any girl. It was the same one from before. Back when he had first woken up in the forest. Kira, if Newt remembered correctly.

"Are you a new student?" Kira clarified, smiling brightly down at him.

"No", Newt stated simply. He really had no interest to speak to anyone else. Kira plopped down beside him. Newt groaned knowing that she was going to try to have a conversation with him.

"So, if you're not a new student, and I haven't seen you around before, what _are_ you doing here?" She paraded at him. Newt didn't want to say anything. Instead of answering the girl, he hung his head in his hands and chose to ignore her.

"You ok?" She asked again. Out of concern Kira placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Newt wined in a whisper. He shrugged her hand off him and stood up. "Just leave me alone."

Kira stood up as well. "Sorry, just trying to help." She stalked off back towards the front of the bleachers to join her friends.

Soon after, the final whistle blew, and the group of now very sweaty boy started trailing back into the building. Thomas was one of the last ones back, he was talking to another boy. The same boy Newt had originally seen Kira with, Scott. They seemed to be in some sort of intense conversation, and Newt didn't know how to interject. Instead he looked around to make sure no one was paying attention before he followed the group.

The building was filled with empty hallways and bright lights. It was not unlike the first building WCKD took them too. Newt started to wonder if this was another test, another trial. He came to a stop after all the other boys filed into a room. The print on the door read 'Boys Locker Room'. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he decided to wait until he figured it was safe. Which was taking a while.

Newt hid behind another door alcove just before some of the boys started leaving, dispersing in different ways. After at least 15 of them were out he had yet to get a glimpse of Thomas. Slowly, to not make a sound, Newt turned the door nob to the locker room.

"Hey man, do you know if your dads on duty tonight?" It was Scott's voice that gently echoed through the nearly empty room.

The sound of running water being turned off was followed by Thomas's voice. "Yeah, decided to pull a double after finding that body today. Why?"

"Just wondering if you could get out tonight. Kira and Malia want to go to The Jungle, burn off some steam. They were wondering if I could drag you along." Scott explained, by the fluctuations in his voice, Newt could tell that the boy was excited.

"Sure Dude. I just got to run home first."

"See you then!" There was a sound of shuffling, which Newt took as his que to hide in the shadowy part in the room.

Newt made himself noticed as he walked into view of his best friend. Thomas was tossing a shirt over his head, but not before Newt got a glimpse of his torso. Though still defined, it seemed like his muscle tone had lessened, and just like the rest of him, he seem mostly pale and vacant of scares. Except for one that look like it was from years ago, two long, talon shaped marks jutting down his hip and under his waist band.

"Can I help you?" Thomas asked. He had noticed the blonde staring at him. The same blonde he had ran into on his way to the lacrosse field.

"I…" Newt started. _Jesus Newt! This is Tommy, you can tell him anything!_ "Do you know who I am?"

Thomas gave him a confused glance. "Not that I can recall. Am I supposed too?"

Newt rubbed the back of his neck. "Tommy, I need your help."

"Who's Tommy?" Thomas asked. Now he was concerned. He had never seen this kid until today and he seemed out of place the first time he saw him. Now he knew something weird was going on.

"That's your name… isn't it?" Newt was a little shaken by this point

"No." Thomas stated. "You must be confusing me with someone else. My name's Stiles."

 _Bloody hell! This isn't even Thomas, only someone who looks just like him… and has the same eyes… and, and that same look._ The two boys were looking at each other. Newt having no idea how to explain himself, and Stiles looking at the kid out of worry.

"What do you need help with?" Stiles asked, strapping his backpack into place and going over to the taller boy.

"I'm sorry, what?" Need less to say he was in a bit of a panicked state.

"I know that look, lets go get some air so we can talk."

Newt nodded happily and followed him out to a large slab of pavement with a couple vehicles. The stopped at an old blue jeep, which Newt assumed was this boy's because he had tossed his stuff into the trunk.

"Sit," Stiles gestured as he took a seat in the back of Rosco. He watched carefully as this kid took a seat besides him. "Now you said you needed help."

Newt was beside himself. If this wasn't Thomas, then why would he want to help him? "I'm not supposed to be here." He started. "My name is Newt, and the last time I checked the world was bloody ending."

Stiles had done some research into doomsday scenarios. Who hadn't? But looking around, none of them said anything about a blonde boy named Newt coming to warn people. "I'm pretty sure,aren't burning up just yet." He chuckled, hoping that what Newt had said was figurative.

"No, you don't get it! The disease… I was dying. You, stabbed me!" Newt was back in panic mode.

"I stabbed you?" Stiles was taken back. He knew that over the past few years he had seen some shit, hell, he killed people. But he remembered all of that. This he didn't remember. Dark thoughts started swarming in his head.

"Not like you had a choice, I sort of forced you to." Newt took a deep breath, this was not how this conversation should be going.

"Ok..." Stiles said softly. He was twitching as he counted his fingers. _Ten, this is not a dream._ "Maybe you should start from the beginning." He had a feeling he wasn't ready for what Newt had to say. Normally he wouldn't even care about some random stranger, normally, his guard would be up. But something about him made him want to trust him. Which was hard for him. Scott was the one that trusted everyone and he none.

" _When you walk into the room,  
You pull me close and we start to move.  
And we're spinning with the stars above  
And you lift me up in a wave of love"_


	4. Hoodies and Malia

As Newt told Stiles his story. He seated himself on the edge of Stiles' bed, whilst Stiles sat in front of him in his desk chair. It had been over 2 hours since they pulled up to Stiles' drive way in the old Jeep. The Brunette figured it would better if they were out of sight. He thought that if Newt was in some sort of trouble, supernaturally, at least Stiles had mountain ash and other resources to help protect the him.

"You're from somewhere else entirely?" Stiles listened to Newt's story in full. From the Maze, to the Scorch, to WCKD. It was hard to believe, if Stiles didn't have his subconscious telling him to trust the other boy, he may not have. _Was Newt from the future? Possibly. Maybe parallel universe? God, I wish Deaton hadn't gone MIA… At least I know where he keeps his books. Maybe I could find at least a lead in there. Maybe Chris would know something?_

"Well don't remember everything being so bloody peaceful." Newt was surprised by how calm Stiles seemed by all this. Like him randomly showing up in the middle of the woods with no memory of how he got there was an everyday occurrence. _How is he not weirded out by this? By me?_

"And you think you… died?". Stiles couldn't shake the feeling that he had personally wronged Newt in some way. Thomas was his best friend. 'I would have followed him anywhere', those the words that the blonde used to describe him. It was not unlike the feelings he held for his relationship with Scott. This 'Thomas' apparently looked exactly like him and it wasn't making the feelings any better. Actually, it made them more deeply rooted.

"I know I did. I was infected and going out of my mind. Tommy had to. _I asked_ him to." Newt confessed, he was no longer looking directly at Stiles. Instead he hung his head low in his hands.

Stiles didn't know how to respond to that. He himself had once thought about ending his life, about asking his friends to do it. Back when he was possessed and wanted to keep everyone safe. But Scott and Lydia fought tooth and nail to save him. It was difficult to imagine what would have happened if one of them agreed to run a sword through him.

"Afterwards, I woke up here." Newt finished softly. He could feel the tears wanting to leak from his eyes.

Stiles bit his thumb nail in thought before getting up to go sit by him. "I don't really know how to help." He confessed after putting a strong hand on Newt's shoulder to try and ease the blonde's distress. "But I think I might have an idea as to where we could find some information. Or at least get a lead on what happened to you. How you got here."

Newt slowly raised his head. His piercing eyes searched Stiles' face for clarification. "Really! You might be able to help me?" He was nearing ecstatic to say the least.

"Yeah, I…" Stiles phone started buzzing in his pocket. _Darn it, Scott…_ "I need to take this." He stood up and headed towards the door.

 _"Yo, Scotty"_

 _"Hey Man, where are you?"_

 _"At home, where else?"_

 _"Are you still planning on coming out tonight? Like, the girls want to get going soon."_

 _"Right, The Jungle… Look I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it."_ Stiles rubbed his forehead and looked down at his new… we friend he supposed. _"Sorry, maybe next time?"_

 _"Look Stiles, I know everything has been weird between us the last couple months, with the Nogitsune and all, but we need you their tonight. Malia will be there, and from what I recall, you're the only one to stop her if she goes all… coyote."_

 _"Scott I…"_ Truth be told Scott what right. He was the only one to keep Malia in check. Since Eichen House, He was the only one she truly trusted. Stiles knew he had to go, if not for Malia's sake, then at least for everyone else's. _"Fine, but I have to do something first. I'll meet you guys there around 10."_

 _"Thank you, Stiles! I'll let the girls know!"_

Stiles released a loud groan before plopping back down on the bed with an unruly feeling of wanting to knock his head against the wall a few times.

"You alright?" Newt asked, his accent unreasonably thick.

"Yeah… everything's fine." Stiles lulled his head to the side a little as something curious came to his attention. "What is that anyway."

"What's what?" The blonde was confused.

"Your accent." Stiles deadpanned.

"Oh… that." Newt was wondering if that was going to come up. After all, he didn't seem to talk like anyone in this area. "Not sure, sort of had it for as long as I can remember."

Stiles raised a brow. "Because you sound like you're from England."

"Where's that?" Newt felt foolish for not know possible basic geography.

Stiles laughed a little before going over to his closet and started thumbing through his shirts. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Look, I have somewhere I need to be. You can come along if you want, otherwise you can stay here. My dad's not going to be home until the morning. You'll be safe."

Newt look around the room. He didn't doubt that not being he alone was safe. The last 12 hours had been the safest he'd felt in a long time. But would it really help to be cooped up in here by himself? "Where are you going?"

"A few friends of mine want me to tag along with them to a club down town. I wish I could get out of it, help you with your mess, but it wouldn't be safe if I wasn't there." Stiles explained it simply, not sure if his words were the best way to go about the topic.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Like it or not, Stiles was starting to sound like Thomas. And that peaked Newt's interest even more.

"Don't worry about it." Stiles' breathed, pulling out a flannel he shrugged it over his shoulders before grabbing a pair of worn converse. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Newt knew that if he was going to go, he would have to make up his mind fast. "I'll go with you." _Bloody brilliant, now you sound like needy Theresa._

Stiles looked him up and down. He knew that it might not be the best idea, he would have to look after both Malia and Newt, but he felt like he couldn't say no. _Why is that?_

"Here," Stiles tossed one of his old zip-up hoodies to Newt. "It'll be cold later on."

"Thanks Mate."


	5. White Noise and Curious Girls

The building reminded Newt of the place where he had found Thomas in the Scorch. When Marcus tried to sell them back to WCKD. Luckily, Jorge knew what was going on and had stopped that from happening. The memories made Newt shiver. But unlike the scorch, which was filled with nearly dead bodies, this place held lots of lively people. All ages, all colors, all sizes. None were sick.

Music was blasting at near full volume and the lights seemed to spiral. Newt followed behind Stiles through a side entrance and down metal stairs to the open floor. Or lack of open floor. Girls in tight dresses, that could barely be called cloths, danced against other girls and guys. All were glowing in sweat. Some were in a trance, eyes cloths, arms in the air.

In all honesty, Newt didn't know how to feel about all this. It all seemed other worldly. The music was so… foreign and the people made him feel awkward. Thankfully, before he got lost in the weird sight of it all, Stiles tugged Newt along as he traded off towards a corner where a small group was gathered.

"Stiles! You made it!" A short red-haired girl called. She smiled with wide red lips as she waved over to them.

"Hey guys," Stiles responded. He kept his demeanor relatively steady as he pulled Newt to stand nest to him. "This is Newt. He's an old friend and he'll be here for a while." He explained. If Stiles was good at anything, it was coming up with a cover story.

The girls seemed to except that, but Scott raised his brow. "Welcome to Beacon Hills," the tan boy greeted whilst extending his hand out for Newt to shake. Newt on the other hand felt uneasy returning said hand and was instead interjected by a familiar voice.

"You?" Kira recognized the blonde after making out his familiar features in the dark.

"You know him?" Scott asked in surprise, eyebrows raised as he looked back and forth between his girlfriend and the new kid.

"I met him earlier, while you guys were at practice…" She clarified whilst curiously scanning any movements the Newt made.

"He was waiting for me." Stiles stated. "Like I said, he's a friend." He would explain what was going on to Scott later. Much later. When they weren't in a club surrounded by strangers.

"I see…" Kira knew that something was off but decided to diffuse her questions until later.

"You guys need to stop giving them the third-degree." The red-headed girl shoved her way past Scott and Kira, trailing behind her was a tall girl with short sandy brown hair. "I'm Lydia! And This is Malia!" She stated as she tugged the other girl's hip against her with her arm. "If you need anything, we are happy to help!"

"Thank you?" Newt asked, wondering why these two didn't seem to question him like the other two.

"Come on!" Lydia aggressively grabbed his arm with hers. "Let's get something for you to drink."

"I don't…"

"He doesn't have an I.D." Stiles stated. He didn't want Newt wandering away. No idea what Lydia would get him in to.

"Oh… that's ok. Ill just work some magic!" She used her other arm to grab Stiles as well. "You definitely need something too Stiles. Your anxiety is making me anxious. And that's saying something."

Stiles allow her to drag them to the bar. No harm in just letting her do her thing. That is a battle he was never going to win anyways. But his concern still led with Newt, who was chewing on his lower lip as Lydia seductively called one of the bartenders over. The blonde watched her carefully as she scanned the guy up and down before her large brown eyes landed on a name tag.

"Hello Zac!" She began twirling her index finger around one of her thick curls. "Can I get three rum and cokes please. Oh! And three shots of your best vodka?"

"Going to need to see some I.D. miss." The man's eyes were cold, not at all convinced by Lydia's movements.

She rolled her eyes and tugged out an extra 20 from her bra. "Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary." She firmly stuck the bill in his face with two confident fingers.

The man breathed out and took the note from her hand. "That will be 13.50."

"Here, open a tab," Lydia again reached into her bra and tugged out a credit card.

"See!" Lydia chirped at Stiles and swatted his arm. "Nothing to worry about!"

When the drinks came, she chugged down her shot in one swift movement. "You can get as much as you like. Tonight, is on me." She smiled widely at Newt before walking back to the table with her drink.

"Is this stuff safe?" Newt asked after picking up the tiny glass and smelling it's contents.

"Depends on what you mean by safe." Stiles smirked and downed his shot just as fast as the red-head had done a moment ago. "It won't kill you if that's what you mean."

Newt eyed the liquid wearily. Everything else about this day had been bloody crazy, might as well follow Stiles in suite. _Oh well, this better be better than Gally's concoction._

The liquid burned as it went down. Though his hope did come true. It was better than Gally's, but only if you were comparing the taste. It still packed and awful punch. He still choked and coughed after swallowing all of it.

"You all right their Newt?" Stiles had been watching with a weary eye as he sipped his mixed drink.

Only a small tear had dripped out of his eye after his fit seized. "Yah, bloody fantastic. What was that?"

"That my friend, is probably the most expensive alcohol in here. Lydia likes to start off with a bang." Stiles handed over the last drink sitting on the bar.

"She's crazy." Newt stated, now looking down at the amber liquid sloshing around in his plastic cup.

"Yeah, that's one word for her. She's also the most intelligent person I know with probably the I biggest heart you'll ever meet." Stiles looked back at the table where his friends sat. "I would trust her with my life."

Deja vu hit Newt like a jab to the chest. He thought back to Thomas and how he never could let Theresa go, even after all she had did to screw them over. _If I have to live through that again…_ But he watched Lydia from a distance. He watched as she held on to Malia. He took note in the way she laughed carelessly with her friends. She hadn't seemed weary of him in the least, and she had even offered a kind gesture. Theresa never would have done any of that with a new person.

"Are you guys together?" The blonde asked after finally taking a gulp of the drink in his hand.

Stiles blinked a couple times before bursting out in a fit of giggles. "God no! I mean, maybe in a different life time. One where we both aren't gay." A year or two ago he and Lydia could have possibly crossed that line. But then they met Malia, and she fell head over heels.

"I see," Stiles was gay. He was gay. And Newt didn't know how to process that information. There had been moments between he and Thomas. Ones where there was _something_. But theconstant running never allowed for it to go past hugging or huddling together in the scorch to keep warm at night. But here, Newt wasn't on the run. He needn't worry about where his next meal was coming from or where they were going to sleep where WCKD wouldn't find them.

He was here, where ever "here" was, in a club with people that weren't going out of their minds with disease. Where instead they were enjoying themselves. Where they went home to a comfy bed and where tomorrow brought promise.

Stiles brows furrowed as he scanned Newt's face, which was hyper focused on the liquor. "You ok buddy?"

Newt came back into focus as he heard Tommy's voice. No, this wasn't his Tommy. This was some other person that just looked like him. Sure, they had the same voice. Held many of the same demeanors. But it just wasn't _him_.

Newt sat the cup, that was now empty, back on the stool. "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I thought I could, but I just… you're not him," he turned around and started towards the main exit despite Stiles' shouts to come back. Tears threatening to spill any moment as he burst out the door to be met by the crisp air and the ever-shining stars.

Where would he go? He wasn't any closer to finding his friends or Thomas than he was this morning. _Maybe I would go back to the woods. Maybe in the morning I'll wake up in the glade and this has just been one hell of a bloody nightmare._

"Newt what are you doing out here, come back inside." It was Stiles. He had followed Newt outside where the temperature was quickly dropping. He came up behind the blonde and turned him around. The sight that met him, however, was heart-breaking. Newt's face had gone puffy with tears straining down his cheeks. The look in his eyes read like a lost child, just wanting to find his way back home.

"I can't be around you!" Newt angerly shoved out of Stiles' touch. "Thank you, really, but I don't think you can help. No one can!" _Because you're just not him._ He was about to argue more, but that was before lips were crashing against his.

Newt felt like his stomach was on fire. In an instant, his tears stopped, and his mind went numb. He could barely focus on the warm hands that cradled his cheek and hip. He was melting, and it felt so right. His body acted on their own accord as one hand snaked around Stiles' back and the other one dug into his hair. He couldn't stop himself as he lightly tugged at the thick mop of hair, for he, for once, felt at peace.

Stiles didn't know what came over him. He really didn't. but from the moment he had met the blonde there was something about him that he couldn't shake off. And in that specific moment, he started to figure it out. Maybe this was what happened to Lydia when she met Malia. Whatever it was, had his heart pounding faster than his panic attacks and made shivers crawl up his spine.

" _When I feel alone, I reach for you  
And you bring me home  
When I'm lost at sea I hear your voice  
And it carries me"_


	6. Coyotes and Banshees

Coyotes and Banshees

Newt's breath had been taken away. The fevered feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. But the moment ended all too soon as Stiles' lips left his, and he wanted to give into this new-found desire to forget about everything happening around him. Forget about his displacement and forget about his world crumbling to dust. He was on cloud nine, never wanting to leave this moment for a second.

Stiles stared into the copper eyes hiding behind thick strands of blonde hair. Surprised by his actions and his demeanor. He had always kept an arm's length between him and anyone outside of his inner circle, his _Pack_. The feeling of undying trust kept coming back was unnerving. _Maybe it was the alcohol._ Wishful thinking. No, this was something else. Something on an inhuman level. But those eyes… they bore into Stiles' heart. Stiles wondered if anyone had seen them, if Scott had followed him outside. Then he found himself not caring what was happening around them.

"What was that for?" Newt asked, breaking the silence. Stiles enjoyed the plush pink blush that creeped up the blonde's neck. His hands were ghostly tangled in the thick mop of hair on Stiles' head, enjoying the texture.

The brunette allowed his head to drop into the taller boy's neck. "I don't know…" Stiles exhaled, allowing the still comfort to wash over him. The smokie smell becoming intoxicating. Too bad the moment came to a screeching halt.

"Stiles!"

Almost like it never had happened. Kira came bursting out of the club doors. Her hair beautifully whipping behind her, but the exasperation that covered her face and the terror showing in her eyes was anything but.

The boys remorsefully fell apart. Newt shuffled behind Stiles, still trying to catch up with the world. Stiles stood still, unreadable. Part of Kira wanted to stop for a moment and question what she had just witness. But there was, well… "It's Malia!"

A blood shattering scream burst out of club, causing everyone in earshot to cringe and Stiles heart stopping.

She was curled in a ball in the corner of the hard floor. Legs curling into her chest with her hands covering her ears. Her claws were out and if you look closely, behind the tendrils of brown hair covering her face, Malia's eyes shone that vibrant glow of coyote blue.

The atmosphere had changed. No longer was the energy that flowed through the patrons and dancers. Instead, a feeling of horror went around as most of the people tried to flood from the room screaming and fighting their way through.

Stiles ran into the room. He was afraid something like this may happen. Malia could normally deal with a relatively large group of people especially if Lydia was by her. He fell to the ground in front of her, grasping her wrists in his hands. "Leah… it's ok. Everyone is leaving." He looked around for her girlfriend. It wasn't the coyote in his grasp that bothered him, but rather the scream that made Stiles' heart race. Lydia only screamed when she sensed death or near death.

Malia shook her head in response to his earlier statement, tears streaming down her face as she looked up at her best friend. She took her right hand and pointed a bloody claw to the middle of the dance floor. _A bloody claw._ It was highlighted by the strobing lights still descending on the dance floor. That was also when Stiles noticed Newt fall to his knees staring at strait at a body. The blonde's face paled and his heart went out to him.

In the middle of the linoleum was a young girl. Hair wavy and ink black. Her half her body was welted as if she was burned, and the other side slashed. Most likely from Malia. Blood pooled around her. It was no doubt that she was already gone.

"What happened?" Stiles demanded at his pack, which were now the only people left. Even the bartender seemed to have disappeared.

Scott was the first to speak. "I don't know! Everything was fine. Then Malia started to howl and well… Lydia…" he walked over to the dead girl to examine the damage.

"She…" Malia breathed, trying her hardest to get a grip on her emotions. "She came out of no were. Right in front of me. Smoke… it was coming from her skin. Stiles…" She paused and allowed the tears to fall from her eyes. "She was smiling."

Lydia's mouth seemed to be sown shut. Her focus solely on Newt and the way his body had gone ridged the moment he saw the dead girl. It didn't seem that he was shocked that there was a dead body bleeding out on the floor, at least not like a normal person. No, there was a different feeling coming from him. It was almost like Newt _knew_ who she was.

"And I panicked… she was so close, I lost control." Malia finished, falling back into herself, head hiding behind her arms. Stiles rubbed her shoulder lightly before getting up. "I'm sorry."

Newt saw the glassy eyes of the girl staring at the ceiling. _Theresa._ But what was she doing here? Had she arrived here… in this non-flair world, the same way he had. _But she's dead… and I'm… I'm…_ No. Newt would not allow the tears to fall. He didn't know what had happened before they ran back in. From the looks of it. That Malia girl had something to do with his former-friend laying dead in the middle of a vacant, sticky floor. He had noticed that the dirty blonde's hands covered in blood. And the claws that seemed to replace her hands. A trail of sticky blood lead between her and the body.

Sirens went off in the distance and rapidly got louder by the second. A second wave of panic rose in Newt's stomach. He should have never gone to the police station. He never should have moseyed around in a place he had nothing about. And to get other people involved…. Bad, bad move.

"Someone called the police…" Kira whispered. She had situated herself alongside Lydia, watching Newts reactions along with her redheaded friend. Newt took a step back as the sirens stabilized in their volume. He felt paralyzed, his breath became short.

Stiles seemed to be the last one in the room to notice Newt's distress. It was like everything happening around him became increasingly less important. "Newt? What's wrong?" He stood up from Malia and approached him.

"She's… She's"

"Scott! Stiles!" A man with graying blonde hair in a police uniform ran in with a hand full of others behind him. "What happened?" He was flustered, but not surprised to find any of them there.

"Dad!" Stiles tore his attention away from Newt. "She just showed up, out of nowhere." He spoke softly, like he didn't want anyone else to hear them.

The man didn't seem surprised by that either. "Get everyone out of here." He eyed the rest of the group. "I'll get the story later." The two of them had a moment, no words, just an intense stair that only seemed to mean something between the father and son.

Stiles nodded and turned to the rest. "We should go. Scott, can you get the girls home?" But he wasn't looking at Scott. He eyes rested on a very nervous Newt whom had fell in behind Lydia.

"Yeah… for sure."


	7. Bed Sheets and Open Windows

Bed Sheets and Open Windows

"What happened back there?" Stiles asked once they were alone in his bedroom.

"What do… you mean?" Newt breathed, trying two divert his gaze away from Tommy… Stiles. _Tommy is gone._

"What I mean, is you didn't seem shocked at all about that dead girl until you saw her face." Stiles understood his hesitance, he really did. But he knew that there was more too this than Newt was letting on. "It was like you _know_ who she is. Please, I need to know so I can help you."

"I… no… I" Newt was stuttering, shaking even, his face flushed. His stammering sped up and Stiles new exactly what was happening. He had gone through it himself. He could feel the other boy's panic.

Stiles rushed forward the moment he saw Newt's knees began to buckle and tense. He caught him on the way down. Kneeling on the ground with Newt in his arms; He was beyond worried, like the most worried he had ever been in his life.

"Newt? Are you..." Stiles began to ask the blonde, still mentally shaking. The blonde heavy in his arms.

"Teresa," Newt swallowed. His eyes were glossy, tears were threatening to creep from beneath. He bulled up into Stiles' stomach. "She's from the… where I'm from." Stiles shirt became in tears. He didn't know what to do, what he _should_ do. This was beyond his area of expertise.

"Ok… you're ok," Stiles cooed, smoothing Newt's hair before picking him up and walking him over to the bed. "Just sleep." Stiles was scared. He wanted, needed answers. And he had no idea how to get them.

"She's dead, I don't think she's coming back." Newt stared up at Stiles as he pulled his fleece blanket over him. More tears falling at the loss of contact.

"I know," he breathed out. "You're safe, ok? I won't let anything happen to you." _God, I'm such a sap…_ "I promise."

The doorbell rang, startling them both.

"I should go see who that is." Stiles reluctantly stated, running his hand through Newt's hair. With laded eyes, Newt merely nodded before curling into a ball and shoving his face into the pillow.

The bell rang a few more times as Stiles made his way down the stairs. "I'm coming! People are trying to sleep." He muttered angrily under his breath. Without bothering to look out the window he the door. Only to be taken back by two intense green eyes staring down at him.

"Derek?!" Stiles hadn't seen the man in months. The last he heard was that sourwolf was still in Mexico. Hunting down the desert wolf. "What are you doing here."

Derek's eyes remained hard as he walked past Stiles and through the threshold. "The nematon."

Stiles tiredly rubbed his temples before releasing a breath and closed the door. "What about it?"

"There has been a disturbance. The other packs can sense it." Derek deadpanned. "Something's happening, and it's not good."

 _Newt_ , Stiles thought, glancing up the stairs. Fear started to raise in his chest. "Why come here?"

"You always seem to know things before anyone else. I figured I'd start here before going to Peter or Cora."

His statement wasn't wrong, and Stiles was torn between keeping his mouth shut or saying something. On the one hand, he wanted to inform Derek of what had happened in the past 24 hours. Teresa being slashed to death by Malia, and Newt's impossible story about a scorched and disease-ridden Earth. Derek showing up out of the blue wasn't a good omen, this threat wasn't to be taken lightly. Something bad was coming.

But the piercing ache of protectiveness in his chest prevented him from saying a thing. Newt was in his bedroom only steps away and Derek wasn't the type to be compassionate when it came to others' emotions. No, best to just lie and deal with it later to protect what was his. _Mine? Why am I so possessive?_

"Sorry, I haven't noticed anything. Actually, it's been pretty quiet around here since you left." Stiles started out the door, hoping the man would follow.

"You're sure?" Derek asked Flatley. He could sence that Stile knew something, but why would he lie. The Stiles he remembered would jump at any chance to lend a hand. He could smell that something was off.

"Positive."

Derek left after taking the hint that he wasn't going to get anywhere. As the Camaro drove away from the house, the pain in stiles' chest lessened.

Newt was asleep when Stiles walked back to the room. His heart thumping fast and his head pounding. The fear was still there.

Carefully, Stiles pulled back the covers and climbed in besides the other boy. He wanted to be as close to Newt as possible, especially now that the nematon was being compromised.

"Stiles?" came a shaky accented voice.

"Sh… go back to sleep." Stiles whispered softly, hoping to be of comfort. He wrapped his arms around Newt's back to pull him into his chest. His body was on auto pilot, like this was the most natural thing in the world. He didn't question it, he was too tired.

 _Why is he being so nice to me? He barley knows me._ But it felt good. Finally, being held by Thomas. _But this isn't Thomas. You just met this man. You should leave, now before you get to attached._ But Newt's body was tired, and the other part of his mind wanted to stay and enjoy this. Let the chips fall where they may. _Remember, you are never going to see Tommy again. This is the closest thing you're ever going to have to him. You Are Dead._

Newt allowed his head to fall on Stiles' chest when he was pulled in. He wrapped his fingers around the other boy's shirt and nuzzled his nose into his neck. _Just for tonight._ He told himself. _Tomorrow you figure out what happened and then you move on._

Some time later that night. John Stilinski came home. He was tired and wanted sleep before having to go back and deal the repercussions from the hours prior. The jungle was shut down for a few days for investigation and the Jane Doe's body was to be put on ice till she could be looked at. Hopefully the next morning.

He walked up the stairs to check on his son. John understood that Stiles could take care of himself. Hell, Stiles took better care of John most days than he did. That never stopped him from worrying though. Stiles was still a boy. A few months shy of 18.

John had a momentary second thought before opening the door to the bedroom. Stiles never closed the door. It was an unspoken rule they had adapted over the years to keep watch over each other. Why the change?

The sight that greeted his eyes was not one that he expected. Another boy, whom John didn't recognize. Was tucked in and protectively wrapped around his son. Stiles' arms held a vice grip around the stranger as he in turn had his fingers had a death grip dug into the stomach of Stiles' shirt.

John wasn't sure what to do. They never really had a rule about this. Well they had one that was 'No _girls_ overnight.' Nothing about boys. Scott spent the night almost every weekend. But that was different, so _very_ different. For one, Scott and Stiles were practically brothers. The love between them was strictly on a sibling level. This seemed very romantic, private, and not meant for anyone's eyes. Especially John's.

But maybe it was just the tiredness of his job getting to him. Maybe this wasn't what his mind was making it out to be. Maybe if he waits to talk to his son in the morning, there would be an explanation for this. At least there had better be. But Somehow, he didn't think so, as out of the corner of his eye he witnessed Stiles subconsciously lower one of his arms around the stranger and seemingly pull him closer so that the boy's groin was flush with his hip.

John held in a breath. This was going to be a very awkward conversation.


	8. Dads, Blondes and Vampires

Dads, Blondes and Vampires

"Well, it's about time you drag your butt out of bed." John Stilinski hummed over coffee and contemplation the next morning. Nose dug into he morning paper as his only son walked down the stairs, shirtless and rubbing his eyes.

"Hey dad," Stiles mumbled back. Padding over to the coffee pot. He was not in the mood for his dad's chirpiness this morning.

"So…" John trailed, bending his paper in half and plopping it on the table.

"So…?" Stiles leaned against the sink, eyeing his dad questionably. _What now?_

"Are we going to talk about the boy in your bed or are we just going to pretend I didn't see him?" John pointed. He wanted answers, and still wasn't sure it the situation he saw last night was ok or not.

Stiles spit out a mouthful of coffee onto the counter top at his dad's forward speech. "uh… I"

"Stop, you're not in trouble. Just want to talk," John confirmed after feeling his son's utter uneasiness.

"It's a long story?" Stiles tested, his face flushing red. "I don't know where to start."

John nodded, "is he still here? Let's start with that."

"Uh…" Stiles mumbled. "Yeah. Still sleeping." He went to sit down across from his father.

"I saw him with you and your friends at 'The Jungle' last night. I don't believe I had ever seen him before though." John stated with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah… yeah. I, uh, actually met him earlier yesterday." Stiles confessed, missing the judgement radiating off his father.

"He ended up sharing your bed hours later?" John's surprise came from a place where he knew his son well. Stiles was loyal to his friends and didn't trust newcomers easily. He was hard headed and calculating. It just wasn't in Stiles' nature to take up someone new, especially on an intimate level. Especially not hours after meeting.

Stiles chewed on his lower lip, he really didn't know where to begin. This conversation was making him queasy. How was he supposed to tell his friends, let alone his _father_ , his feelings towards Newt? Because nothing about his relationship with him was natural or normal. Stiles had only begun to understand himself. Whilst laying in bed that morning with the blonde wrapped around him tightly, admiring how attractive he was while playing with the mop of thick hair on his head that covered his face.

Because, Newt was like a memory that had been suppress and forced to be forgotten. A memory that had come to the surface with such a force, it left him weak. Stiles' heart ached at the thought of anyone bringing Newt harm. He knew enough at this point that if Stiles had too, he would put his own life on the line to save him.

None of this was any less scary than it had been the day before. How on earth was he supposed to verbalize all that to his father was out sounding crazy. Well, crazier than normal.

"You look lost, son." His dad tor him from his devolving train of thought. John was now beyond worried, what could have happened in the past 12-24 hours to make his son go speechless.

"Dad, I really don't know how to go about explaining this to you at all." Stiles confessed in practically one breath. "I'm not fully understanding it all myself." His words were ominous.

"Stiles. If you're trying to tell me you're gay, I'm ok with…"

"No! Dad, that's not at all what I'm talking about." Stiles had turned redder, he understands that his previous words would make it seem like he was trying to come out of the closet. And a little part of all this was that he was romantically inclined to the _boy_ in his bed. But that was such a small part of this. "Well, maybe a small part of it is."

"Then what _are_ you talking about?" Johns head was spinning, why did his son have to be difficult?

Newt woke from the best sleep that he has had in, well possibly ever. The pillow was soft. The bed was warm, as was the sunshine shining through the window. The non-broken window.

 _Yeah, now I remember_. Newt sat up and stretched, a few pops coming from his sore knee. _Now what?_ He had told himself that night before that he was to move on as soon as he could. But, the ping in his chest was fought his head. Heartache. The day before had been incredibly exhausting. He was scared and out of his element. Literally. He was almost positive he had landed in a whole other dimension. He had no luck earlier with finding out where he was. What was the point of aimlessly wondering around, lost and confused.

Finally, it was like the dam broke and the tears fell freely from his eyes. _I don't think I can leave. What if Tommy's dead? Then all that would be left is Stiles._ Stiles. Whom he had met the day before. He was kind and held onto Newt to comfort him. Stiles had no reason to do that, nor any responsibilities to him. And yet, Stiles had taken him in. Stiles had kissed him, made him feel safe.

Newt had yet to wrap his head around the possible idea that he was indeed safe. Or as safe as he would ever hope to be in his life. Part of him, the heart, felt like he was betraying Thomas. _But remember, you are dead. Just like Teresa, just like Alby… just like Winston and Chuck. Just like all of them._

Newt fell to the bed and buried his head back into the pillow, hands gripping tight to the blanket. So much so that his knuckles turned white. His silent sobs intensifying and brain turning fuzzy. It was just too much right now.

Stiles sighed in relief when his dad's scanner went off, asking him to come to the hospital morgue. That meant that whatever explanation his dad needed could wait until his dad came back home. At that wouldn't be for at least another 10 hours.

Stiles all but sprinted back up to his room. He stopped in is tracks after opening his door to see the sight before him.

Newt was loosely curled up, eyes wide open and puffy with a mass number of tears streaming down his face.

"Newt… are you ok?" There was that strain on Stiles' heart again.

Newt's head perked up in surprise. His expression turned to shame, and maybe a bit of embarrassment. "I don't know if I can do this anymore." He couldn't bear to even look in Stiles' direction.

"Do what?" Stiles heard the helpless tone in Newt's voice. He walked over to his bed to sit down. Carefully he moved the hair that was in front of Newt's face away.

"Living!" Newt rasped, it hurt to talk. _I'm so bloody pathetic._ "Teresa, she got here too. But she's dead! What does that say about me?" It hurt, but he pulled himself up to face Tommy… STILES! ER! The whole thing hurt. "Am I just here do die as well?"

'Teresa' was the name of the girl who Malia slashed last night. Stiles could remember Newt saying the name when he saw her. But… the girl was alive when she arrived. Stiles was sure of it. Even if what Malia said about her being burned already. If Newt was here, breathing, then what caused her death wasn't Teresa getting here that killed her. It was Malia's lack of control.

"Newt," Stiles stated calmly. "She died after. She wasn't dead when she got here, however she managed too. It wasn't that." Stiles felt the weight of reality. One of his friends had killed one of Newt's friends. She might have been the only clue he was going to get to help Newt. And she was just, well, dead!

That's when Newt remembered the blood on Malia's hands. Hands that looked like claws. "Malia," he remembered. "She did it. Didn't she?" He didn't want to accuse anyone of anything. Especially Stiles. Afterall, he was taking care of him.

Stiles looked down, he wished it wasn't true. "I'm sorry. She couldn't control herself."

 _Crank_. Was the first thing Newt thought about. What else would cause a person to accidently kill another person so easily. But he had yet to see any evidence that the flair was here. In this place where everyone was healthy and living their fantastic lives. But what else is there? "What? What is she?"

"She's a…" Stiles couldn't bring himself to say Werecoyote. He didn't want Newt to be any part of this. Any part of his world or his messes. He wanted Newt to stay as far away from all of that as possible. He wanted him safe. But he knew that if he were to keep his trust, he had to. He had to tell him. "What do you know about the supernatural?"

Newts face scrunched. His tears completely dried up, with only the red splotches around his eyes. "The what?"

"Like umm… werewolves and vampires. Other things that go bump in the night?" Stiles new he sounded completely ridiculous. He knew that it sounded like he was insane.

That was the first time Stiles saw Newt crack a smile, a genuine smile. He even laughed, "you're joking!"

Stiles stared at him, unblinking and serious. No smile shone at all.

Newt's face fell. "You're not, are you? Malia's a…"

"Werecoyote, on her mom's side." Stiles clarified, relieved that Newt was believing him.

"Oh. There's Werewolves and Werecoyotes? Like, claws and fangs?" Newt would be lying if he said he wasn't interested. And a little happy that it wasn't the flair.

Rubbed his cold feet over the mattress. Fiddling, in a way. "Yeah and… a lot more… again I'm sorry about your friend. Malia hasn't been human in a long time."

"I don't know what to say. She was never my friend, she was Tommy's, I… couldn't stand her," Newt confessed, because this wasn't about her. This was about what her being here meant. As far as he was concerned, he always wished he never would have met her. She was the one to screw everything up. He even wished her dead on many occasions. He hated the way Tommy would always defend her, like nothing was ever her fault. Like she could never do any wrong, he loved her. Newt wasn't stupid. And he never knew how far Tommy would go to save her.

"Oh." Stiles was a loss for words. It sounded like Newt hated her.

"She was frustrating, and if it wasn't for her. None of us would have been separated. And I… would have never gotten sick. Hell, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

It was like a bolt of lightning struck Stiles. Like whatever Newt had said triggered something in the back of his head. And he began to see things.

 _FLASH_

 _Stiles was in an alley way, or what seemed like one from what he could tell. A female voice could be heard from somewhere in the distance:_

 _"Come Back Tom. You Can Still Save Him."_

 _He could hear bones breaking behind him. A sickly rasp followed._

 _Stiles wasn't in control of his body. He turned around. It was Newt, but not. There was something desperately wrong with him. Black veins littered his body, blood seemed to be leaking from his mouth and eyes… his eyes. So black – demonly black._

 _"Newt, wait!" Stiles felt himself saying, falling from his lips._

 _Newt lunged._

"Stiles!" He heard his name as he came back to reality; covered in a cold sweat and was on his side shaking. He didn't want to open his eyes. What he had saw, what he had felt. It was real. How could it not be?

"Bloody! How do you work this thing?"

Stiles reluctantly shot open his eyes at the sound of Newt's voice. He had Stiles' phone in his hand and it seemed like he was trying to figure out the number combination to unlock it. But what Stiles really noticed was how clear and unblemished Newt's skin was. How pretty his brown eyes seemed to fleck gold.

It was real, Stiles new that much. And he had just seen what was possibly the last few minutes of Newt's life before he arrived here. Thankfully healthy and unharmed.

"Newt?"

The blonde dropped the phone. Staring at Stiles. His heart slowed down, he thought Stiles was going to die. They were in the middle of their conversation about Were-things when he collapsed. Unresponsive and convulsing. He couldn't lose him again, no matter what his name was. Thomas, Stiles. It didn't matter anymore. If he loved Tommy before – than he could fall in love with this version of him as well. He was done. Done waiting for things to play out in the right way.

Newt moved forward. Wrapping his arms around Stiles and smashed their lips together in a searing kiss. And Stiles responded back with as much enthusiasm, he wanted to give Newt everything.

" _In this world we're just beginning_  
To understand the miracle of living  
Baby, I was afraid before  
But I'm not afraid anymore"


	9. Dark Memories and Marked Moments

Dark Memories and Marked Moments

It was bliss, the way Newt's mouth wandered the creases of Stiles' body. It made his heart stop and skip beats. Stiles had never experience anything like this, the way the heat surrounded them. Every caress to his face made him blush. Every brush to his naked hip made him shiver. It all made Stiles wonder about Newts ability to show affection after everything he had been through.

"I know what happened to you." Stiles breathed after disconnecting his lips from Newt's.

"Because I told you." Newt smirked, nesting his nose into the bend in Stiles' neck.

"No, Newt." Stiles took Newt by the shoulders, removing him from his position to look Stiles in the eyes. Trying to communicate to him how serious this was. Stiles had never experienced something like it before, not even when he was possessed. "I saw it, felt it, it was like a damn memory, Newt."

Newt's breath hitched, and his eyes grew wide as he was brought back into reality. "What do you mean?"

"I was there. Fire. And a voice telling your friend Thomas the he could save you. But it was like I was looking through your friend's eyes. Like it had all happened to me." Stiles wished he could speak to Deaton, or anyone with extensive supernatural knowledge, he was at a loss to what any of this was. The only clue he could think of was Derek's declaration from last night. About the Nemeton being compromised.

"Like it was his memory you were seeing?" Newt didn't have a clue what could have brought that on. Sure, Stiles may look like a carbon copy of Tommy. But he wasn't him. Newt was sure of that much.

"Yeah," Stiles didn't know how this would affect Newt. He knew Newt and Thomas were more than friends, but what was the memory trying to tell him. "I think we need to figure this out, before it gets worse." Stiles rolled out of the bed and turned on his laptop. He wasn't even sure if it would help, but that was the only place he could think to start.

"How?" Newt was scared as well, but all of this was so beyond him. Not just Stiles' memories, the werewolf thing as well. That's when a thought crossed his mind. Were they all were-things? What was Stiles?

"I've spent hours on this computer before. At least I have always partially figured things out." Stiles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't see why it may not work now."

Newt rubbed the back of his neck; this sort of thing was way beyond him. "And this sort of thing is… normal?"

"This? People who think they are dead showing up alive. No." Stiles stared looking into public cases of strange deaths occurring in the area - a wide search.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Newt stood next to him, peering over Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles thought for a moment, grabbing a pen and chewing on its cap frantically. "Could you tell me anything else about your other friends? The ones that have… passed."

Newt felt bile rise in his throat. It was a fair question. But a personal one. "I… yeah. Sure."

Newt had told Stiles about Alby. About Chuck. All the fallen Gladers. Some of them were harder to speak about, especially Alby. The thought of them being alive, here, hurt more than seeing them die.

It was talking about Winston though was what did it. Caused another rise of a memory in Stiles' mind.

"The first time we realized not all of us were immune was a few days into the scorch. Winston started getting sick, started hallucinating. He told me he wanted to lash out, like he felt we were going to turn against him."

Newt watched Stiles loose balance from the edge of his chair as he spoke the last words.

 _It was hot, too hot. Stiles was walking alongside Newt and the dead girl, along with a few other faces he didn't recognize. This seemed to go on for hours, the son unmoving. No one spoke._

 _Then one of the boys, the middle eastern, collapsed. Everyone shouted his name._

" _Winston"_

 _Stiles was the first one to him, looking for signs of consciousness. "Winston! You with us?"_

 _Winston looked around a moment. "I don't think I'm going to make it."_

" _Minho. Help me, there's shade over there." Stiles nodded in the direction towards the couple of trees._

 _Between him and Minho, they go Winston under the trees, in the shade._

" _You're going to be ok." Minho spoke._

" _No, I'm not." Winston pulled back the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the infection sight. Black veins bleeding every direction and pulsing green._

The intake of breath this time around hurt more, brain fuzzier, vision more blurred.

"Stiles!" Noise intensified.

Newt was by his side, gently shaking his shoulders.

Stiles vision cleared to see the distressed blonde.

"I'm ok."

"It happen again?" Newt asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Stiles slowly came into the sitting position and rubbed his hand over his face. "It was Winston."

"We should stop." Newt deadpanned, not wanting to cause his companion any further stress. It was hurting him as well.

"I don't think…"

Stiles' phone went off. Ring loudly blaring and startling them both.

"It's just Scott." Stiles confirmed after picking it off the carpet next to him.

"Hey Scott."

"Dude, you ok?" Scott sensed the distress in his friend's voice.

Stiles looked where Newt was kneeling beside him. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. What's up?"

"Derek is back in town. You may come over. Something big is going on."

Stiles knew exactly what this was about. The Nemeton.

"… Stiles?" Scott inquired after the line had gone dead.

"Yeah, when do you want me there?"

"As soon as you can. Lydia and Malia are on their way now."

"I'll be there."

Stiles exhaled deeply after the call.

"What was that about?" Newt asked, trying to decipher the look Stiles had on his face.

"No rest for the wicked." He responded whilst jumping to his feet.

Newt watched as Stiles walked around to his bed and threw one of his sweaters at him.

"We have someplace to be."


End file.
